Ethan Foster and the others exchanged a knowing glance—perhaps it was the calm confidence of the man called Andrew Adams that influenced them, or perhaps it was the helplessness of having no other way out. They nodded. Jack Carter hoisted the unconscious captain onto his back, while Ethan Foster and Brian Clark instinctively took up the rear.

Andrew Adams led the way. After just a couple of steps, he looked back at Ethan Foster and Brian Clark bringing up the rear and said, “Don’t bother covering the rear. Leave this place as fast as you can.”

The three of them had already been wandering in this primeval forest for several days, worn down and exhausted. Hunters are the spirits of the forest, most familiar with this land, so everyone nodded in agreement, ready to risk it all.

With no need to worry about leaving traces, they could run for their lives with abandon, and their speed increased many times over. The three, carrying their unconscious captain, quickened their pace and closely followed behind Andrew Adams. They soon noticed something: this Andrew Adams really was familiar with the forest. He always chose the easiest paths, as if he knew exactly where to go and where not to, avoiding mud, loose soil, hidden pits, and the silent traps of withered leaves and underbrush. They moved swiftly.

Almost all special forces soldiers know that when traversing complex jungle terrain, you should stick to ridges, spines, hillsides, riverbanks, and areas where the trees are tall and sparse, the gaps wide, and the grass low and thin. The rule is: take the ridge, not the gully; go lengthwise, not crosswise. But Andrew Adams was different. Once he picked a direction, he marched straight ahead without hesitation, never taking a diagonal. When faced with obstacles, his long machete flashed up and down, hacking a path directly through, with no concern for leaving traces for pursuers.

When moving, he took the largest strides possible—this did match the basic field skills of special forces. The three were amazed by Andrew Adams’s strength and speed; as a trailblazer, he was more than competent—fast and efficient, as if his strength was inexhaustible. They had no time or energy to ask questions, nor did they care to. Having steeled themselves for death, they no longer felt any worry or fear.

Soon, a mist-shrouded gorge appeared before them. Its size and depth were impossible to gauge, and they couldn’t see what lay within. Everyone looked at Andrew Adams in surprise.

Andrew Adams didn’t say much. Somehow, he produced some unknown branches and handed them to the three. “Swallow the leaves,” he said, quickly eating some himself.

The three didn’t understand, but followed suit anyway. They set the captain down and ate as well. After eating a bit, Andrew Adams plucked some unknown leaves, crushed them into a ball, squeezed out the juice, and dripped it into the captain’s mouth. Seeing this, the other three hurried over to help. Though they didn’t know Andrew Adams’s purpose, they were sure he had a reason and meant no harm.

After a moment, Andrew Adams suddenly frowned and said, “They’re fast—they’ve already caught up. Let’s go.”

The three strained their ears but heard nothing. This could only mean one thing: Andrew Adams’s ability to sense danger far surpassed theirs. Looking at Andrew Adams’s attire, they could only attribute this skill to his hunter’s instincts and talent—living in the primeval forest, among wild beasts, his sense for danger was beyond ordinary.

Hoisting the captain, they followed Andrew Adams at a run toward the gorge. Passing through the swirling mist, they suddenly realized that beneath the fog was miasma. With their strong jungle survival skills, they immediately recognized it, though they hadn’t expected it to be hidden under the mountain mist.

What surprised them was that they didn’t feel the slightest discomfort. The memory of the unknown leaves they’d just eaten flashed through their minds, and they understood. Gratefully, they glanced at Andrew Adams leading the way.

None of them were fools; on the contrary, they were all highly experienced in combat. Hiding in the gorge, the enemy would surely pursue them, but the enemy wouldn’t know that miasma lurked beneath the mist. Unprepared, they would surely fall victim to it, buying the group some precious time.

Where there’s hope, there’s motivation; with motivation comes results. Their spirits lifted, their combat effectiveness rose, and the three moved with much lighter steps, advancing rapidly and soon reaching the bottom of the gorge.

Andrew Adams glanced at the captain, now lying flat, and said calmly, “Rest here for a while. Wait for me to return before doing anything.” With that, he headed back the way they’d come.

The three exchanged a look. Ethan Foster caught up and said, “Brother, words can’t express our gratitude. We’re not afraid of death. Are you going after the pursuers? Let me go with you.”

Andrew Adams looked at him, confidence shining through his determination. The powerful aura of a fighter hadn’t diminished in the slightest. He smiled and said sincerely, “Big brother, may I borrow your knife? I’m going to gather some herbs. If I’m late, he won’t make it.”

Ethan Foster didn’t know why Andrew Adams refused his offer, but hearing that the captain could be saved, he didn’t hesitate to draw his most treasured weapon—the “Guoren” military dagger—and handed it to Andrew Adams. “Brother, I’ll leave it to you. Hurry back.”

Andrew Adams took the dagger, glanced at it, a flash of delight in his eyes. “A fine weapon. Ethan Thompson?”

“Brother, my name is Ethan Thompson. The unconscious one is our captain, David Bolton. The tallest is Jack Brooks, and the other is Brian Cooper. You can call us Ethan Foster, Jack Carter, and Brian Clark.”